Johnlock Dates
by pg394always
Summary: A collection of oneshots of John and Sherlock going places and being adorable basically. Rated T - for now...
1. Picnic at Regent's Park

**First instalment for this collection. Made an effort to make this one a bit longer so hope you like it!**

Sherlock couldn't believe what was happening. This wasn't the type of thing that you find your average highly functioning socio-path doing in their free time. Not that he was average of course, yet he couldn't quite wrap his head around it. What was so fun about sitting on a blanket in the cold and eating soggy sandwiches?

_"God, it must be so strange in their ordinary little minds," _he pondered, staring at John with a pointed curiosity as he flapped around trying to find his tartan rug and wicker basket.

Nevertheless, Sherlock Holmes was going on a picnic.

"Sherlock, can you _please _help me, you're being about as useful as a rock right now," John had gone slightly red-faced in his valiant efforts to uncover the elusive basket and was becoming increasingly frustrated.

"_And frustrating."_ Sherlock mentally added.

However his only verbal contribution was:

"In the Stone Age rocks were used as tools and caves, which are also rock, were used to live in. Nowadays since we're marginally advanced they have multiple other functions such as building and road materials, art and even jewellery. So I'm going to assume that you've just paid me a compliment and quite rightly too."

John rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly.

"Actually I meant it as an insult but if you'd rather something a bit more obvious, I can arrange that too. You're being annoying and unhelpful." He snapped.

Sherlock was a little taken aback by this outburst. His stocky companion was never usually this upset over something he'd said. He couldn't understand what exactly had triggered this response. For once in his life, John Watson had him stumped.

Not wanting his confusion to show, Sherlock hurriedly grabbed his long, black coat from the armchair and forcefully shoved his arms into it, pulling up his collar in the process.

"There you go then. Go ahead, pop your collar and be cool. BUT DO NOT FORGET MY SANDWICHES."

"_Ah, right on cue,"_ Sherlock thought to himself with a small smile. He'd never admit it to anyone, but the only reason he continued to wear his collar like that was because he knew that John secretly loved it.

He wandered into the kitchen and idly put the sandwiches into an empty container. How monotonous it all was. The only reason he put up with any of this ridiculous triviality in the first place was for John. Spending time with him was like a drug – no, it was better. Sherlock knew in his heart that there was nothing he wouldn't do for John. Even if it involved packing sandwiches and not complaining about picnics.

In the living room, John had found his basket and was finally beginning to relax. He could see Sherlock in the kitchen packing the sandwiches and it warmed his heart. He knew that this really was the last thing Sherlock wanted to be doing, not when there were puzzles to do and cases to solve, but today was an important day for him and he wanted to spend it with the man he loved.

John had waited to see if Sherlock would realise what today was but so far it seemed as if the man was clueless. John wasn't angry – he was confident that he'd figure it out soon enough.

"Come on then, Sherlock, let's go!" he called into the kitchen.

Sherlock brushed past him haughtily, obviously trying to appear not too pleased about the sandwich packing, and they got into the cab. John couldn't help but chuckle.

"Regent's park and make it snappy. We haven't got all day." Sherlock's commanding voice rang out from the back seat.

"He means please," added John, giving him a look which said 'stop with the attitude.'

Sherlock complied, albeit reluctantly and stubbornly turned his head so he was looking out of the window. However, at the same time, without making any other movements, he slipped his hand into John's and clasped his fingers tightly.

It was a sweet gesture and John vowed to return it later.

When they finally got to the park, it was windy and freezing. Rain was threatening and the sky was a dreary, depressing grey.

"Well this looks fantastic. Remarkable weather I must say." Sherlock commented, sarcastically.

John chose to ignore him as he spread out the blanket on the grass. He took out a flask filled with coffee and some biscuits from his bag and glanced around, mumbling.

"Sandwiches…where are they…"

Sherlock's eyes widened slightly as he realised what had happened. He sunk down on the rug next to John and smiled as widely as he could.

John looked somewhat alarmed for a split second before his expression changed to a well-worn look of total surrender.

"You left them on the counter didn't you."

"John, look! Do you see that bird? What incredible wildlife London has!"

"Sherlock Holmes. What am I going to do with you?" their eyes met and they shared a smile.

Sherlock was about to look away, but something inside of him shifted and he kept his eyes resonantly fixed on John's.

"I've got a few ideas." He whispered, placing his hand on the other man's cheek.

John fought to control his breathing before tilting his face up slowly and placing his lips on Sherlock's as lightly as he possibly could. It worked.

A small growl escaped Sherlock's throat as he attempted to deepen the kiss. John smirked as he pulled away, even more so as he noticed the scarlet flush creeping up Sherlock's neck and into his cheeks.

Without warning there was a flash in the sky followed by a deafening rumble. Rain fell in torrents and soaked the two men completely within two minutes.

Sherlock immediately jumped up, an appalled look on his face as he scanned his surroundings. Moments later he took off running towards a gazebo halfway across the park.

John stared after him not sure whether to be angry or amused. This man always managed to muddle his emotions and leave him in a mess of feelings.

After he gathered the remains of their "picnic" he jogged through the icy rain with the rug around his shoulders in an ultimately futile attempt to keep warm.

Finally he made it back to Sherlock. His curly hair had become matted to his forehead, brushing over his eyes. Water droplets decorated his eyelashes and cheeks and his lips had a rosy tinge to them because of the cold.

John felt a heat rising within himself, expelling all the coldness from his body.

He took a step towards Sherlock, who wasted no time in removing all the space between them.

Their faces were just inches apart, their teeth chattering yet the atmosphere was charged with electricity running between them.

Sherlock crashed his lips down onto John's and allowed his tongue to invade his mouth. John's mind instantly went fuzzy and everything became Sherlock. John's felt Sherlock's arms encircle his waist and it encouraged him to tangle his fingers in his soft curls.

Sherlock breathed out against John's neck, making him shiver before trailing a line of kisses down his jawline and sucking lightly on his ear. John tilted his head back, mouth barely open and groaned softly.

Smirking, Sherlock pulled back.

"Wha…?" John protested, still hazy from the kiss.

"My turn to do the teasing. Plus your lips have begun to develop a blue-ish tinge and look at you, ever since I let go you've been shivering uncontrollably – and not due to my competence in osculation. I believe that we ought to consider braving that rain once more so that we get you back home and warm you up."

John couldn't be entirely sure, but he was pretty certain that Sherlock winked at him.

Back at Baker Street, both men curled up on the couch in their pyjamas, drinking tea to warm themselves up. Sherlock wound his arm protectively around John, who proceeded to lay his head against his shoulder.

"John?" he muttered

"mm?"

"That really was a dreadful picnic."

"It was a good kiss though."

"Touché," he concluded, pausing for a moment before adding, "you didn't really think I'd forget what today was did you? How could I forget the first day you moved in here – the day I met the love of my life."

"Even if you didn't know it at the time 'cause you were such an annoying prick?" John smiled.

"I know it now. And I know it forever."

As the words left Sherlock's mouth, John knew he'd never want to stop hearing them, for as long as he lived.

**Feel free to leave some feedback and let me know what you liked and what I can improve on! Much appreciated x**


	2. The Heathrow Altercation

**I wanted to give this a try so I made it a bit more dramatic before it got all cutesy. Also, I introduced a character of my own just to move the plot on a little. Warning: Language**

"_Honestly, living alone with Sherlock is bad enough." _Thought John, as he handed his passport over to the check-in lady, "_But a week in Spain with Sherlock __**and **__Mycroft…"_

He'd always thought that family holidays were wonderful, but this? There was no words to describe how he felt about this. The only thing he knew for sure was that he genuinely feared for his sanity.

"Right then, Mr Holmes. Your new flight is AA 201, departure time 10:05 PM. You'll need to be at gate R4 in 30 minutes for boarding." John heard the flight attendant say.

"No, actually. There's been a mistake," he informed her as politely as he could, trying to cover up his frustration. How he despised airports. "We're on the 9:30."

Sherlock shot him a curious sort of look before smiling amicably at the lady behind the counter.

"Come along, John. You're holding up the line."

John allowed himself to be ushered away, still not quite certain what was going on. Sherlock obviously wasn't going to be explaining any time soon and John hated being left hanging.

"Sherlock, if I don't get an explanation soon then I swear I'm getting a cab right now and going home."

"Wrong," came the cocky response.

John rolled his eyes, enjoying the banter that was beginning between them. It always turned him on.

"Well if you won't tell me voluntarily, I'll just have to force it out of you…" he breathed into Sherlock's ear, as he quickened his pace so that he was no longer behind but beside him. John noticed Sherlock stiffen, barely enough to be noticeable, but enough to make John inwardly congratulate himself on a job well done.

"Just for that, I won't explain that 'mistake' at check-in."

John's shoulders sagged and his forehead crinkled as he realised his victory was short lived. He opened his mouth to fire back some kind of flippant remark but was interrupted before he could even form the words.

"You think you're pretty fucking cool don't you mate."

John looked up, utterly bewildered to see a young man blocking their path.

"Oi. Sherlock Holmes is it? What? Too good to answer scum like me? People like you make me sick."

Sherlock scanned him once and with his voice dripping contempt he answered:

"Is there some way that I can help you? It's pretty obvious that you need it. I'm going to go with 3 GCSE passes, if even that much."

"Yeah mate. My name's Conan Jones. Ring any bells?"

Sherlock shook his head and pushed past, continuing to walk.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going then? DON'T YOU EVEN CARE THAT IRENE'S MISSING?"

Abruptly, Sherlock turned on his heel and marched back over to the fuming man. John didn't dare follow. They'd cracked the Irene Adler case a few months ago and when she'd disappeared, many people, including John himself, had thought that Sherlock had been in love with her. It still made John smile, thinking about how wrong he'd been.

"Yes as a matter of fact I do know that Irene Adler's missing. It may have something to do with the fact that she doesn't love you and couldn't stand being around your disgusting personal hygiene habits." Sherlock smirked.

"How the FUCK did you know all that, I didn't tell you shit!" the young man's voice was rising as he got angrier.

John saw it all happen in slow motion. Conan pulled his hand back, raised, about to strike. John lurched forward as fast as he could and slammed his arms against the rapidly descending fists. For a moment, he was proud of himself. He'd done the saving this time.

But then everything went black.

As soon as John went down, Sherlock's eyes became scarily calm. He'd noticed the approaching security guards and knew he couldn't fight back without being hauled off himself. He was furious, something that he didn't feel a lot of the time.

But when it came to John…

After Conan was removed from the scene, Sherlock knelt down and cradled John's head. He wouldn't be unconscious for more than a couple seconds, a minute at most.

John blinked, a dull ache throbbing in his cheek. The first thing he saw was a worried Sherlock, bent over him, waiting for his eyes to open.

"What did you do to him?" he asked, warily.

"Nothing. Obviously. This is an airport, John and as much as I'd like to return his favour, I couldn't do it without both of us getting escorted right back to Baker Street, which would be a right shame since I really wanted to spend a week in New York with you."

"New York?" John was stunned, "What happened to Spain…Mycroft?"

Sherlock waved his hand about impatiently.

"He'll get over it. Anyway, up you get. We've got to get to the gate."

John hesitated.

"_Screw it." _He thought, "_I'm already lying semi-conscious in the middle of Heathrow. What difference could one kiss make?"_

Before he had time to change his mind, he hooked his arm around the back of Sherlock's neck, forcing their lips to meet. It was such a clichéd thing to think of yet still John swore that all the people around them melted away and they were the only ones in the world.

"The only ones that matter anyway," commented Sherlock, as they broke apart.

"Did I say that out loud?" John was pretty sure he hadn't.

"No, but you were thinking it. Very predictable, John."

Their eyes met once more and they couldn't help laughing.

As they made their way to the gate, Sherlock seemed to be enjoying some sort of private joke.

"What is it?" inquired John.

"Conan is a Gaelic name meaning 'wise man.' It's the best joke I've heard all day."

* * *

_"Ladies and gentlemen, the seatbelt sign has now been switched off. All approved electronic devices may be used from this point until landing. Have a nice flight!"_

Sherlock glanced across at his companion, marvelling at the bruise which now decorated his face. Secretly, he was thrilled that John had tried so hard to protect him, even if he was just a tiny little hedgehog of a man. He reached his hand over and intertwined his fingers with John's. It had become a habit for him whenever they sat next to each other. It calmed him, made him feel relaxed.

They sat like that, blissfully silent, until they both drifted off to sleep, hands still firmly fused together.

"_Flight attendants please take your seats for landing."_

"John? John?" Sherlock nudged him gently in an attempt to wake him up.

John didn't stir.

"JOHN!" he lost his patience, swatting the sleeping man's arm with his rolled up flight safety brochure.

"What?" John's eyes were puffy from sleep and his voice was still husky. There was something endearing about it, really.

Sherlock leant across in his seat and kissed John's bruise.

"Welcome to New York."

**Let me know what you think! The next 2-3 chapters will be oneshots of dates in NY but I decided to open it with this one. Although it isn't a "date" per say, the idea came to me and I really wanted to write it. Let me know what you think! x**


End file.
